Oblivion
by K. Cloak
Summary: [Complete] Peter Pettigrew was a Death Eater So why didn't Snape know? Maybe he did. Severus is sent to hunt down a traitor to the Order, but what will happen when he does? [Ch4&5: Severus and Albus reach damning conclusions]
1. Ch1: Friends, Enemies

**Oblivion**

By K. Cloak

**Summary:** Peter Pettigrew was the man who led to the deaths of Lily and James Potter on October 31st, 1981. He was a Death Eater – so why didn't Severus Snape know about him? Maybe he did know. When Albus Dumbledore receives word that there may be a Gryffindor in the Death Eaters, Severus is sent to investigate. What went wrong? Why did the Potters die? Why was Snape so convinced that Black was to blame? You'll see…

**Category: **I find that my angst doesn't quite live up to "torture Severus for 36 chapters," but I found while writing this that a lot of it is depressing. Angst addicts, line up.

**Rating: **PG to PG-13 for violence, language, and, if you want to be nitpicky, alcohol use.

**Notes: **This is a work-in-progress – please be kind and review. It looks like it will be about five or six chapters. Also, there are bound to be inconsistencies with HBP, since this fic was started before HBP came out.

**Chapter 1: Friends, Enemies, and Those in Between**

Severus Snape woke on the morning of October 18th, 1981 to a screeching sound that, while common in the wizarding world, was not quite welcome at the crack of dawn. Severus raised his head from the desk on which he had fallen asleep and sneered at the source of the noise: an owl, and crafty enough to sneak in through a window in another part of the house and find its way to Severus's windowless study. Even if Severus hadn't recognized the bird, he would have immediately been able to guess its owner: Only one wizard that Severus knew would own such an inordinately perky creature.

Scrubbing at his face with one hand, Severus reached out to the snowy owl, which had had the audacity to perch on top of a pile of Severus's favorite books. Now hooting in a self-satisfied manner, the owl hopped down onto the desk and allowed Severus to read the note attached to its leg. Cryptic as always, the note read:

Severus,

You are needed. Come to the gates. Kitty will shield you. Bring your hands, not your head.

W.

Severus sighed as he read the note. Translated from Albus Dumbledore's minimalist code-script, the note had said that there was something new that Albus wanted Severus to check up on from the inside of the Death Eater circle. Severus was to come to the gates of Hogwarts, where Professor McGonagall would meet him in order to spell him against the strangling anti-Death Eater ward that surrounded the school. Severus was not to bring any of the potions he had been working on – it looked like Albus wasn't interested in those right now – and there would be no Occlumency practice today... a rather good thing, considering the fact that Severus was still exhausted from hours of sustained practice with Albus the night before.

Severus sighed and let his head fall back onto his crossed arms. Albus Dumbledore was subtly manipulative in a kindly way, which tended to put people off their guard. Severus was difficult to manipulate, but owed Albus enough to do his bidding anyway. Receiving that owl message less than six hours after he'd seen Albus was no coincidence, and Severus knew it. Wearily, he got to his feet, found his wand, cast a de-wrinkling charm on his clothes, and Apparated out of his study and into the Forbidden Forest that bordered Hogwarts. He didn't even take the time to wonder what Albus wanted.

-o-o-o-

"Good morning, Severus!" called Albus Dumbledore cheerfully as Severus grumpily walked onto his office. Through the windows, the rising sun could just be seen peeping over the horizon.

Severus crossed his arms and sat in the chair opposite Dumbledore's desk. "What do you want?" he asked flatly.

Albus chuckled. "You never are one to take part in small talk, are you Severus?" The twinkle in the man's eye was as irritating as always. "Would you like some coffee?" he continued. A tray stood on the corner of the desk, complete with coffee and everything one could possibly want to put in it.

"Considering the fact that four hours of sleep on top of two the night before and several hours of keeping you out of my head doesn't count as restful in my book, yes."

Albus nodded and poured two cups of coffee. "Cream and sugar, Severus?" he asked.

"You know I don't like cream and sugar." Albus shrugged and passed him the cup. Finding the coffee only warm, Severus downed half of it and set the cup down on the desk.

"I can't see why you drink it that way," said Albus.

"It's more effective when you don't dilute it."

"You're so potions-minded, Severus."

"That's what I do for a living," said Severus, reaching for the cup again. Midway, his hand suddenly stopped, and he shook his head. "You are so manipulative," he muttered.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Small talk. I don't usually devote time to talking about my beverages."

"Well, it looks like you just did. I win again, Severus."

Severus couldn't help it. After more than a year of working with Albus Dumbledore, he'd actually started to like the man. Severus gave Dumbledore a weak smile and leaned back in his chair.

"So why am I here? And why now? I was just here."

"I knew you would be worn out from last night. Are you?"

Severus rolled his eyes at the old man. "No, Albus, practicing Occlumency against the strongest wizard I know isn't tiring at all. Would you like me to do some juggling as well?"

"Good, you're tired. The reason I had you come here now is that I'm pretty sure you're exhausted. There's a side effect to exhausting your Occlumentic skills… memories gained when your mind is essentially laid bare are easier to cover later."

"Ah. So you want to tell me a secret. Why didn't you just tell me last night?"

"You were barely coherent, Severus. You had to Floo home." Severus scowled at the memory. He hated admitting that Albus was right: He'd sat down at his desk for "just a moment" and had fallen asleep right there.

"So what's the secret?"

"I want you to drop your defenses first."

Severus snorted. "They're still out of commission, Albus."

"You're wrong. You're very good at Occlumency, Severus. By now you're better than I am."

"Albus, I'm tired. Just tell me what it is."

During the course of their conversation, Albus had moved from behind his desk and now stood in front of Severus, who looked up at him with no small amount of defiance. He did not at all expect Albus to slap him.

Albus slapped him. It wasn't hard, and it didn't hurt, but it made Severus suddenly, irrationally angry. Abruptly, he stood and prepared to give Albus a piece of his mind, only to find Albus in it already.

Reeling, Severus reflexively clapped both hands to his head and sat back down. After a few moments, he removed his hands and looked at Albus, who had pulled a chair from the side of the room and was now sitting near Severus.

"I'm sorry I had to trick you like that, Severus. If you hadn't been so worn out, I probably wouldn't have been able to get the trick to work either. I'm not nearly as good a Legilimens as Voldemort."

"Do not-" Severus began, and stopped himself. Albus could shout the Dark Lord's name at the top of his lungs in the middle of Hogsmeade and nobody would tell him to stop. Severus took a deep breath and forced his suddenly powerful emotions to the side.

"What's the secret?" he asked again

"I think we have a traitor on our side."

Severus raised his eyebrows at that. He considered using the opportunity to take a jab at the _angelic _Gryffindor house, but bit back the comment. Instead, he nodded at Albus.

"I think you may be right," he said back. "The Death Eaters always wear masks at gatherings, but they- we- know each other anyway. Usually you can find out who a new initiate is after a few meetings. There is someone whose identity I don't know. He's been coming to the gatherings for about two months now. The others think he's a favorite of the Dark Lord's and that he's trying to root out possible traitors."

"You have no idea who he is?"

Severus gave Albus a somewhat irritated look. "I haven't really wanted to get close to someone who could expose me."

"We need to know who he is. Can you find out?"

Severus nodded. "I'm sure I can."

"Find out as soon as possible, Severus."

"Is there any reason for finding this person? Besides removing him from the Death Eaters before he discovers that I'm a traitor too?"

Albus sighed. "We have reason to believe that Voldemort is planning another attempt to kill two of our best Aurors. This traitor is believed to be connected to them. Finding him could save their lives."

"And who are these two?"

Albus paused for a moment, as if wondering how to phrase his next statement. In a way, he actually looked uncomfortable. "You don't like them, Severus."

"I don't like a lot of your golden Gryffindors, Albus. I don't like a lot of people."

"You _really_ don't like them, Severus." Albus said the words with an almost apologetic look. It completely answered Severus's question for him.

"Potter," he spat. His face twisted into a sneer.

"James and Lily Potter, and their infant son, Harry. They're already under high security, but this traitor could get past that."

Still sneering, Severus stood and began to pace the room. "It's amazing, Albus, how blind you are sometimes. Their best friends are a werewolf and a sadistic _asshole_, both of whom have tried to kill me!"

Albus sighed. "You've had meetings on the full moon, Severus. It's isn't Remus."

"And Black?"

"I doubt it's him, Severus."

Severus gritted his teeth for a moment, furious at the dismissive tone in Dumbledore's voice. Of _course_, it couldn't be Black. Dumbledore had already demonstrated his preference for Potter and his friends enough times in the past. Severus wanted to curse Albus right out of his seat.

Instead, Severus closed his eyes, took a deep breath, forced the anger into a corner of his mind where he could manage it, and _pushed._

Now it was Albus's turn to reel as Severus's Occlumency reasserted itself. Once more feeling cold and in control, Severus stood and took a step towards Albus.

"I'll find out who it is, and I will sincerely enjoy the look on your face, Albus, when one of your precious Gryffindors is exposed as a traitor."

Severus swept out of the room, not bothering to listen as Albus called after him to stay.

-o-o-o-

That night, Severus got the opportunity to start his investigation when the Dark Lord summoned the Death Eaters for a meeting. As usual, the meeting had been outside, but unusually, Voldemort had seemed somewhat irritated. Nearly half of his followers had found themselves cursed by their Master for mere trivialities - Severus himself had been lucky and had escaped the Dark Lord's wrath. As Voldemort had called his followers to the center of the circle they had formed, Severus had identified the Death Eaters present: all but one. Standing at a bit over six feet tall, the unknown Death Eater occupied the place directly opposite where Snape was standing. When Voldemort left, Severus immediately set out toward the Death Eater, hoping to catch him before he left. He was thwarted when a rather short Death Eater stepped in front of him, pulled off her mask, and crossed her arms.

"Where the hell were you last night?" she hissed. Severus glanced down at his unhappily wedded wife and crossed his arms in a mockery of her posture.

"Although it's none of your business, I was out for a few drinks and fell asleep downstairs." Falling asleep downstairs was true, but the rest of it was a bare-faced lie: Severus rarely drank at all. He'd begun to use drinking alone as a cover for his meetings with Albus. Juliette knew of his father and had fallen for his little ploy – in her eyes, he was a burgeoning alcoholic.

"Idiot. Did you get to work on time?" Severus felt his upper lip begin to curl beneath his mask.

"Yes," he sneered.

"Fine. Don't draw attention to yourself at work." Juliette put her mask back on and disapparated without a word of goodbye. It was no loss to Severus – he only put up with his businesslike arranged marriage because the Dark Lord had insisted upon it.

Refocusing his glance as Juliette disappeared, Severus discovered with dismay that the unidentified Death Eater had already left. He cursed under his breath.

"What's the problem, Severus? Somebody leave before you could say goodbye?"

Recognizing the always-arrogant voice of Lucius Malfoy, Severus turned around. Lucius had removed his mask to reveal his perfect features, and seeing that Severus's face was still covered, he lifted his companion's mask as well.

Severus frowned at him. "What would you know of it?" he asked. Lucius smirked back.

"Looks like you were after Mr. Mysterious over there. Did Juliette get in your way?"

"Yes," Severus answered flatly.

Unexpectedly, Lucius's face darkened. "That's a shame, Severus. That man is trouble. Why don't you come home with me – maybe we can figure out something to do about him."

Severus, who really wanted nothing more than uninterrupted sleep, had no choice but to agree.

-o-o-o-

Severus and Lucius Apparated to the front door of Malfoy's very large home, appearing several feet in front of the threshold and thus materializing several feet from a very unpleasant and illegal anti-Apparition ward. Lucius opened the door and gestured for Severus to enter; he walked into the front hall as Lucius shut the door.

"Quiet," whispered Lucius in a tone that did not at all match his arrogant personality. "Draco's sleeping, and Narcissa will curse us both if we wake him up."

"Library?" whispered Severus. Lucius nodded and Severus began to walk, knowing the way already. Wordlessly, he left the hall, climbed some stairs, and made his way down a corridor to the large and quite comfortable library that lay at the hallway's end.

Severus himself felt the complete opposite of comfortable. He'd spent many weeks in Lucius's house since he had finished his first year of Hogwarts. Lucius had been like a big brother to him when he was younger – he'd even saved Severus's life once. Lucius knew more about Severus than Severus cared to admit, and up to a particular evening a little less than a year and a half ago, Lucius had been his closest friend.

Realizing that being a Death Eater was a huge mistake had shattered Severus's world, had driven him to try to kill himself and, when that failed, had driven him to Dumbledore instead. When he'd returned to the Death Eaters as a spy, Severus hadn't known what to feel about Lucius. The man was a murderer and sadist, someone who had extensive experience with all three Unforgivable curses and was proud of it. He was more of a monster than Severus had ever been, and yet he was still the person who had been around for Severus to talk to, who had laughed at Severus's sardonic comments, and who had provided a place to go when the long teenage summers at home had bent Severus past his breaking point. Although Severus was repelled by what Lucius was, he found that he still _liked_ him. Severus always left meetings with Lucius mired in a sea of conflicting emotions.

Outwardly composed but inwardly squirming, Severus opened the door to the library and sat down at a table in the back of the room. The table was too low for him now, but had once been just the right size for his eleven-year-old frame. Severus sighed and pressed his palms against his closed eyes as Lucius took a seat opposite him.

"Severus, you look awful."

"I've been doing a lot of work," he muttered, brushing the comment aside. "Anyway, we didn't come here to discuss me." Removing his hands and opening his eyes again, Severus gazed over at his friend… enemy… whatever Lucius was.

"You always do get straight to business."

"I've never been one for small talk, Lucius." Lucius gave him a thin smile, but then his face fell.

"That man has been a Death Eater for two months, and hasn't talked to anybody. Nobody knows who he is."

"I know – he leaves as soon as the Dark Lord does. He works alone."

"It's suspicious," said Lucius, wrinkling his nose. "You know that I think he's a spy."

Severus's heart skipped a beat at the word "spy," but he showed no outward sign of it. Seeing an opportunity to legitimize his own spying in the eyes of the other Death Eaters, Severus stepped in.

"Do you think I'd be able to find out who he is?"

"You want to?"

"What do you think, Lucius. Inquisitors are always a threat. They see disloyalty everywhere – he could have a list fifty feet long of things we do 'wrong.'"

"We should just kill him," muttered Lucius. "Simple killing curse and _poof!_ No more problem."

Severus hated Lucius's nonchalant attitude toward murder. "We can't do that," he said. "If he really is spying on us, don't you think the Dark Lord would be suspicious if he disappeared?"

Lucius sighed. "I know. It would just be so much easier. Send the message to all the other Death Eaters that we were going to kill this guy and then as soon as the Dark Lord disapparates, we off him." He sounded almost wistful. Severus's guts twisted at his tone.

"We can't do it that way – it's suicidal."

"What do you suggest?"

Severus gave Lucius a cold, calculating look. "Capture him, interrogate him, Obliviate him, and if necessary, brainwash him."

"And I should leave this to you? Well, you are the resident Master Interrogator here." He smirked at Severus, but his mention of Severus as a top interrogator – quite true – made Severus feel thoroughly disgusted with himself. _This_ was the reputation he'd developed.

Scowling and suddenly in a black mood, Severus stood and leaned over Lucius. "You have a son, Lucius. I have no one. I'm more expendable if I'm caught." He spoke the words in a biting, nasty tone. Lucius brushed them off.

"Nonsense. But anyway, one person is less likely to get caught than a number of people. I'll inform some of the others to stay out of your way, but I won't tell them what you're doing." Sensing Severus's desire to leave, Lucius stood as well.

"I know the way out," said Severus. He turned to go, but Lucius caught his arm.

"Be careful, Severus. If he is a spy and the Dark Lord catches you, he'll kill you. I would find that to be… quite a loss."

Finding no words to say, Severus nodded at his friend… enemy… whatever, and swept out of the room, down the corridor, down the stairs, through the hall, and out of the Malfoy home. Gods, he hated himself tonight.

Usually, on a night like this, Severus would have gone to see Albus. It was the night of a meeting, after all, and Severus was in desperate need of a friend who didn't scare the hell out of him. Leaving the boundaries of the Malfoys' wards, Severus prepared to Apparate. He stopped mid-thought, remembering the unpleasant manner in which he'd parted with Albus that morning. He couldn't go back now.

Instead, Severus Apparated to a bar in Germany, where nobody knew his name and he barely knew enough of the language to place an order. He sat down and had a drink, and then another, and then another. The next day, he missed work, yet he couldn't bring himself to care.

**Notes: **There will be more action in the next chapter, as Severus gets closer to finding out the identity of the "Mystery Death Eater," and the month of October, 1981 draws to the close that we all are so familiar with… Review if you like it … it motivates me to write instead of do homework.


	2. Ch2: A Sense of Self Preservation

**Oblivion**

By K. Cloak

**Chapter 2: A Sense of Self-Preservation**

There wasn't another Death Eater meeting for four days – long enough for Severus to get over his hangover, push Lucius to the back of his mind, and make up the work he had missed, but not long enough for him to go back to Albus. It was clear that Lucius had been telling the other Death Eaters about Severus's little "assignment:" Severus had run into three Death Eaters within the last few days, all of whom had made vague comments about it.

When the meeting did come, Severus followed the call of the Dark Mark with record speed. He found himself in a rather cold clearing in a dismal forest; the pale half-moon could be seen through the branches of the autumn trees. With some relief, Severus noticed that Lucius had already arrived and had taken a spot far away, greatly decreasing the likelihood of another guilt-inducing conversation's taking place.

Severus reported to the Dark Lord without incident, spouting carefully constructed lies that he had agreed on earlier with Albus and just as carefully shielding his own true feelings. Voldemort assigned him an Auror to capture and interrogate, but thankfully gave the job to him alone. Faking the results of an interrogation, as well as the death of the victim, was much easier when Severus had no partner to deceive.

The meeting lasted less than an hour, and Voldemort dismissed his followers shortly before midnight. With the kind of speed characteristic of a group of men and women used to their lord's casual use of the Cruciatus curse, the Death Eaters began disappearing in twos and threes.

Trying to be inconspicuous, Severus began to make his way toward the unknown Death Eater. He was within an arm's length of the man when suddenly the Dark Mark on his arm burst into life, and with more accompanying pain than usual. Severus froze. With dismay, he turned to see the Dark Lord standing in the grass; the dismay intensified as a series of pops signaled the departure of the rest of the other Death Eaters.

"My Lord," he said, approaching Voldemort as a sense of dread settled onto his shoulders. He had no idea why the Dark Lord would want to speak with him outside of a meeting, besides perhaps to kill him. With the Dark Lord, that possibility was never completely out of the question.

Severus knelt in the grass before the tall, imposing form of the Dark Lord, but the Mark did not stop burning. Voldemort knew something, then.

"Severus," Voldemort hissed. "Stand."

"Yes, my Lord," replied Severus, rising to his feet but keeping his eyes on the ground.

"I have heard from one of your fellow Death Eaters that you have recently developed and interest in one of the new members." Voldemort's words carried an inherent threat that even Crabbe and Goyle could have recognized, and Severus wasn't surprised to find the Dark Lord's words accompanied with his usual piercing Legilimency. A normal, untrained wizard would not know at all what Voldemort was doing, but Severus could sense it and had to fight to give no indication of his discomfort. Severus could feel Voldemort pulsing in his skull, forcing his way around, trying to see what Severus kept carefully hidden. It was like being French kissed by a rough and unwanted partner: intimate in an unpleasant way.

"Yes, my Lord," Severus replied again. Carefully, he fabricated feelings of loyalty to Voldemort and pushed them into the forefront of his consciousness, like bait for a fish. Arrogant as always and overconfident in his own skills, Voldemort took the bait.

"Why?" he hissed. Only Voldemort could make a single word so frightening.

"I fear that he may harbor disloyal feelings, my Lord. He seems to avoid the other Death Eaters. I thought-"

"What you think is insignificant. If he does not wish to share his identity with you, you shall not attempt to find it on your own. Do I make myself clear?" Leaning down, Voldemort brought his pale face close to Severus's and peered into his eyes with a hellish gaze that sent half the blood in Severus's body plummeting to his toes.

"Yes, my Lord. I will do whatever you command, my Lord."

Voldemort smiled; it made Severus's blood run cold. "Good. Leave."

"Yes, my Lord." Bowing slightly, Severus turned to leave, wanting to put a good distance between himself and the Dark Lord as quickly as possible. He could feel droplets of cold sweat beginning to run down his forehead beneath the mask and exhaled slowly, glad that his own interrogation was over for the night. Taking a breath, he raised his wand to Apparate.

At that moment, Voldemort gathered his considerable strength and pierced into Severus's mind. Even a normal wizard would have felt such a mental blow, and Severus found it impossible not to jerk forward and drop his wand as Voldemort shoved his way into his skull. The Dark Lord began rifling through his memories, skimming over the events themselves and drawing out the emotions behind them. Severus was drawn back with him, watching for a second time as he drank himself into a stupor in Berlin, had his visit with Lucius, argued with his wife, attended the other meeting, went to work, returned home from Hog-

_NO!_ Severus's whole mind shrieked at him as Voldemort skimmed the surface of the meeting with Albus – his Occlumency practice – and swooped down for more detail like a hawk onto helpless prey… It would mean certain death if Voldemort discovered the detail behind those memories.

Desperate, Severus pushed a false memory in place of the last two memories. He draped the walls of his study over Albus's gadget-filled office, replaced the light of early morning with the dark of a poorly-lit room. He covered the whole fabrication with a great sense of _alone_, and buried Albus Dumbledore behind the lie.

Severus could feel the Dark Lord hesitate over the false memory and push harder. Beneath the emotionless shield of Occlumency, Severus was rapidly beginning to panic, and he knew that the emotion would cause his own demise if he didn't control it. Straining still, Severus shoved the panic down, knowing that at any second, he'd fail and Voldemort would see him as the traitor he was.

And then, suddenly, Voldemort stopped, releasing Severus with such abruptness that he staggered forward. From behind him, Severus heard a pop as Voldemort disapparated, leaving Severus by himself.

Shaking, Severus sank to his knees and let himself fall onto the grass, tearing the mask from his face and tossing it to one side. He raised his hands to his sweaty face as the panic he'd felt bubbled to the surface and threatened to turn to hysteria – beneath his fingertips Severus could feel his pulse flickering rapidly at his temples.

He'd never been so close to being caught - he'd never come so close to being summarily tried and executed by the Dark Lord than he had just a moment ago. Severus forced himself to breathe slowly, and his panic began to recede to a manageable level. Returning to his feet, Severus retrieved his mask and wand.

He had to go back to Albus.

-o-o-o-

Severus strode across the Hogwarts grounds as fast as he could, making his way swiftly to the castle. We moved swiftly not only because he had just nearly gotten himself killed, but also because he was unexpected and therefore vulnerable to the anti-Death Eater wards surrounding the castle. Severus's breath was already becoming labored, and not from his brisk pace, but from the Strangling Hex that was already starting to take hold of him.

Severus approached the set of large doors that led to the great hall and pushed on them, only to find them locked. _Crap_, he thought, looking back over the distance he'd covered. He'd pass out from the wards before he made it back to the Forbidden Forest. Desperate, he knocked on the door and listened as the sound carried through the hall on the other side.

Somehow, he doubted that Albus had made the Strangling Hex lethal, but he didn't particularly want to find out. Glancing back over the grounds, Severus had just decided to try and sprint back when one of the doors creaked open and a sour-looking man appeared in the doorway.

"What do you want?" asked Argus Filch, the thirty-six-year-old caretaker of Hogwarts. He stood in the doorway, an ugly cat and even uglier kitten on the floor behind him.

"Let me in," said Severus, already gasping. "I need to talk to Dumbledore."

"You can't wait till morning?" Filch asked, wedging himself further into the doorway as if to say "go away" in the loudest possible body language.

"No!" Severus snapped.

"The Headmaster has to sleep, Mr. Snape. Come back tomorrow."

Flich stepped backward and moved to close the door in Severus's face; Severus put his foot in the way and wedged himself into the castle.

"I'm sure he won't mind," Severus said, sneering.

Apparently uninterested in a protracted argument, Filch gave a shrug and stepped aside. Severus shoved past him rather rudely and took off at a run for Albus Dumbledore's office.

Shouting the password at the gargoyle, Severus ran up the already-moving staircase to Dumbledore's rooms and began to pound on the closed door.

"Albus!" he called, his voice failing. Although he knew there was nothing there, he couldn't help putting his hands to his throat as the hex tightened, halting his breath completely. Severus sank down in front of the door, banging on it again as his vision began to tunnel.

Severus was about to find out if the ward was lethal or not when the door opened and the invisible hands around his neck abruptly released him.

Gasping, Severus sat back on his heels for a moment before getting to his feet. In front of him stood Albus, looking not angry, as Severus had expected, but rather worried. He had clearly just jumped out of bed and looked disheveled, with bits of his white hair sticking out from his cap at all angles.

"Severus! What's wrong?"

Looping an arm around Severus's back, Albus led him to what had become his usual chair and, as usual, pulled another chair up near it.

"Sorry… couldn't wait… until morning…" said Severus, still out of breath. He paused for several moments, waiting until he could speak normally.

"What happened?" asked Albus. "Was there a meeting tonight?"

Severus dropped his head into his hands. "There were two," he said miserably. "One right after you told me about the possible traitor, and one tonight. I… I couldn't bring myself to come here after we had that argument."

"What argument, Severus?"

Despondently, Severus looked up into Albus's innocent blue eyes. "Oh, you've got to be kidding, Albus," he said. "I pretty much told you to go to hell and that you were a bastard, and then didn't even have the decency to let you defend yourself."

"Severus, I know that you can often be stubborn, uncooperative, and difficult to get along with. I think you find me to be the same way. It doesn't make me dislike you."

Severus groaned at Albus's kind words and buried his face farther in his hands. "Oh, Albus, I know I should have come before. I… I nearly got myself killed tonight."

"Did Voldemort try to…?"

Severus nodded. "I've never been as deeply searched as I was tonight, Albus. He- he got through. He saw bits of everything from the last four days. I covered up my meeting with you at the very last second. If I'd been a fraction of a second slower, I'd be dead now." Severus knew that he was shaking again, but couldn't quite summon the strength of will to stop. He sat in miserable silence for several minutes, during which Albus left the room and came back. He finally looked up when Albus sat down in front of him and gave him a tap on the shoulder. He had two mugs hooked with one hand; carefully, he handed one to Severus.

"Hot chocolate, Severus. Pretty much all cream and sugar." He smiled at his own little joke.

Severus put both hands around the warm mug, not having noticed how cold he was until then. "Thanks," he said softly, blowing on the surface and watching the steam dance away. He stared at the tendrils of steam for several minutes before speaking in a calmer tone. "I'm sorry I came bursting in like this – I was just-"

"Terrified. And with good reason."

Severus sighed and took a sip of his hot chocolate. "If the Dark Lord does this again, I think I'll break," he admitted suddenly. "I don't like the thought." He paused as Albus smiled again.

"What could possibly be giving you reason to be cheerful?"

"Ah, Severus. You've inadvertently given me two pieces of good news."

"Certainty of death is good news now?"

"You're not going to die, Severus."

"Really," he intoned, deadpan. Now beginning to get over his panic, Severus was swiftly reverting to normal.

"Really," said Albus shortly. "You think that Voldemort nearly found you out – a close call, I will admit. But I think that he put everything he had into searching you, Severus. And you defied him. He won't try that again anytime soon – he's too arrogant to believe that anyone could block a probe like that. You, on the other hand, will only get stronger. He's been a Legilimens for decades – you've only been practicing Occlumency for a year and a half." Severus took a moment to mull over Albus's words.

"Well… I suppose that does make me feel a little better, actually. What's the second piece of good news?"

The smile on Albus's face broadened.

"You were scared to death when you came in here."

"I don't see how that is good news at all, unless you've suddenly developed an interest in sadism."

Albus shook his head gently, still smiling despite his now serious tone. "The first few times you met with the Death Eaters as a spy, you were so depressed that I thought you might be caught at any moment. You said it yourself – you didn't care if you lived or died. It wasn't much motivation to avoid being found out, especially considering that little promise you made me."

"I didn't think you'd look into it that deeply."

"Oh, really, Severus. Even if you're magically forbidden to commit suicide, you can still act in a suicidal manner."

"And now I've found a reason to live." Severus pressed both hands to his heart in a falsely melodramatic gesture.

"If not that, you've found a reason not to die."

Severus had no response. Albus was right – somewhere along the line, he'd redeveloped his sense of self-preservation.

He spent another half an hour with Albus, then left for home.

-o-o-o-

More than a week went by, and Severus began to wonder when the Dark Lord would summon the Death Eaters again. Life passed in its typical manner: Severus got up in the morning, ignored his wife as well as he could, went to work, stayed late, and came home. He met with Albus once, but their discussion was short. Severus ambushed the Auror he was supposed to interrogate and kill, obtained enough information from him to make up a suitable set of lies for the Dark Lord, and sent him to Dumbledore to be put in hiding.

Then, something nearly as scary as another interrogation by Voldemort came along: the Halloween party at work.

On the night of October 31st, Severus was sent home at the ridiculously early hour of 4:30 to get ready for the party at six. The boss, a cheerful, middle-aged Potions Mistress covered in burn scars from her early research, had practically ordered Severus to wear something other than black, and had subtly but clearly indicated that she wanted Severus to wash his hair.

So, grumbling to himself, Severus had washed his hair and put on a set of robes in dark forest green. He then searched the house from top to bottom for Juliette, wishing that he didn't have to bring her.

Severus found Juliette in the last place he would have expected: his study. Sitting at his desk, she was looking through a book that had the brand-new look of an unwanted gift. Hearing him enter the room, she looked up and sneered, but her face was paler than usual.

"I thought I'd get Your Highness for the party," he said, sneering back. Walking up to the desk, he plucked the book out from under her fingers and turned it around. "Divination?" he scoffed, opening it to the section where she had been reading. "Interpretation of dreams? Did you have a nightmare, _dearest_?"

"That is none of your business!" she snapped. Standing, she slammed the book shut on his fingers and took it back.

"The party's in half an hour," Severus said tonelessly, turning to leave.

"I'm not going," she said from behind him.

Severus turned back briefly. "It's no loss," he said coldly. As he left, he briefly wondered if his wife had indeed had some sort of premonition, but just as quickly dismissed it. Divination was a bunch of crap.

-o-o-o-

"So, what do you think, Severus? Does the quality of the music make up for Wentworth's awful singing voice?"

Severus stood in the main room of the potions shop in which he worked, surrounded by twenty or so witches and wizards, most of whom were naturally boring and had been made completely asinine by the large amounts of alcohol they'd consumed. Standing in the corner had saved Severus from any of their stupid conversations for the first half hour of the party – that was, the half an hour before his coworkers got really drunk. After that, even the taciturn, uncharacteristically non-greasy young man wedged in the corner had become interesting to some of them, and Severus now found himself with one arm trapped in the crook of his boss's elbow, taking part in a conversation about wizarding popular music and holding on to an untouched bottle of beer.

He felt like a trapped animal.

"Well?" his boss asked again. "Do you like the Headless Horsemen?"

Severus desperately wanted to speak his mind in the usual manner, which would be to tell his boss that the Headless Horsemen were a bunch of idiots without a functioning brain between all four of them. Unfortunately, Severus also wanted to keep his job.

"Um…" he replied, at a loss for words that were not sarcastic. "I… think they're all right," he said lamely. Half of the six people in his little group burst into laughter for no apparent reason; he couldn't imagine he was the cause.

"I told you!" shouted the other junior Potions Master, a twenty-six-year-old wizard named Val Johns. Johns was now the drunken color of a ripe tomato. "If Severus likes em, they've gotta be good."

"Oh, Wentworth's a talentless ass!" a woman's voice shouted back. Severus agreed with her, and looked over to see Minna Dean, a thirty-something with a green drink in her hand, walk up to Johns with the sort of bluster he wouldn't have expected from her. Dean ran the register and was usually quite shy; Severus didn't think he'd ever heard her say the word "ass" before.

"You dunno whatcher talking about," slurred Johns. "Doesn't have any taste, that one." He jerked his finger at Dean.

"I'll give you something to taste!" At the point where Dean dumped her drink on Johns's head, Severus began to realize that these two were both the angry type of drunk. He untangled his arm from the boss's and began to sidle away as Johns, his blond hair now vivid green and dripping, whipped his wand out and sent a Leg-Locker curse at Dean. Severus was surprised that the curse worked, considering Johns's condition.

Tripping over her suddenly leaden feet, Dean fell to the floor as the wizard next to Johns disarmed him and pinned his arms behind him. Unfortunately for both of them, that left them vulnerable as Dean recovered and sent a Hail Hex at them. Some of the hailstones drew blood before the boss disarmed Dean.

Severus, now at the threshold to one of the back rooms, listened as the shouts of "break it up!" swelled and then died down. They were soon replaced by laughter and shouts of a more innocuous type. Dean and Johns probably wouldn't even remember the fight in the morning.

Severus was almost glad for the argument – it had allowed him to slip away. Sighing, he shut the door to the workroom he'd entered and took a seat on the table by the window, looking out at the night sky. He could still hear the hubbub of the party from the other room; apparently, however, nobody had thought to look for him. Severus considered just Apparating home. It was around eight o'clock; he figured he'd put in a long enough appearance to assure the boss that he could be a "team player" when necessary.

The Dark Mark chose that moment to burst into life. He hadn't been expecting it, and dropped the bottle in his left hand as pain flared in his forearm. Grimacing both at the sound of shattering glass and the thought of the meeting ahead, Severus Apparated home to fetch his mask.

-o-o-o

**A/N:** Thanks a lot, Rosaleen, for being my sole reviewer! (It's so depressing to get the big fat zero!) And hey, it's Halloween already – Severus is going to have quite an interesting next chapter.


	3. Ch3: The Puzzle Solved

**Oblivion**

By K. Cloak

Chapter 3: The Puzzle Solved

Severus Apparated into the circle of Death Eaters to find that luck had, perhaps, paid him a visit. To his left stood his wife, who had apparently deemed a Death Eater meeting important enough to attend even if she had skipped out on the party. To his right stood a Death Eater that Severus didn't know – the _only_ Death Eater that Severus didn't know.

For the first time in quite a while, Severus felt confident that something was going to go right, and smirked in a manner very similar to Lucius behind his mask. He was dead wrong, of course, but had no reason to suspect it.

-o-o-o-

The meeting was brief, and Severus spent most of his time thinking about how he'd get the Death Eater next to him to have a heart-to-heart chat with him. He couldn't just grab the man, Apparate him to his basement, knock him out, and interrogate him the way he had suggested to Lucius. No, Severus needed to get his information with a minimum of violence - it was the only way he'd find out what he needed to know without the possibility of bad consequences for himself. If the man was, by some chance, actually working for Voldemort behind the backs of the other Death Eaters, Severus had to make sure he looked loyal despite his prying, and that meant keeping Mr. Mysterious in one piece.

Lucius, of course, would simply have clapped the man on his back, smiled like a shark, and invited the man to go out for a few drinks – not an option for the perpetually unpleasant Potions master. Trying to lure the man in with friendliness would have been akin to wearing a giant enchanted sign on his head with the words "Look how suspiciously I'm acting, please investigate" flashing on it. Severus was the type of man to catch his flies with vinegar.

Severus sighed; the meeting was almost over. This Death Eater was a Gryffindor, and nearly all of the other Death Eaters had been in Slytherin. How did a Slytherin usually get a Gryffindor to do what the Slytherin wanted?

Taunt him, of course.

Severus looked over at man at his side. It wasn't as if Severus really doubted his identity – he had to be Sirius Black. He stood an inch taller than Severus and managed to stand apart from the group even as they stood in a circle, as if convinced of his own superiority.

By the time the meeting ended several minutes later, Severus knew what he was going to do. Reaching out with his right hand, he gripped the man firmly by the arm and, before the Death Eater could react, stretched his Apparation spell around the both of them and disappeared.

A heartbeat later, the two of them appeared in another forest, this one older and sparser. A gravel path led forward through the trees. Over the years, Severus had become more and more comfortable with his family's anti-Apparation ward. Whereas he'd started out materializing a quarter mile from the ward's border, tonight he appeared a hair's breadth from a magical field that would likely have torn him to shreds. Before the disoriented man could even move, Severus shoved him forward over the ward's border.

Removing his mask, Severus smiled predatorily and stepped forward to where the man sat on the ground. He reached a hand down to help the man up.

"I didn't think that Gryffindors were such cowards," he said condescendingly. "Usually, when I want to speak with one of the other Death Eaters, I just have to, oh, owl them, or send them a Floo message, or go to their homes. But then again, they don't usually hide from us as well as you have."

The other man looked back at Severus from behind his mask.

"You- you seem to have an- an unusual interest in me," replied the man, stammering. His voice was familiar, but, to Severus's dismay, it wasn't the voice of Sirius Black.

"If I do, it's only because you seem to have so little interest in us. What are you hiding?" As Severus spoke, the man took a step backward. Severus stepped forward, advancing on him.

"N- nothing."

"Then take that off," he ordered, gesturing to the man's mask. "You wear a Death Eater's mask as a symbol of respect to the Dark Lord, not to hide from your fellows."

The man hesitated, then whipped out his wand and made a snapping gesture with it; Severus could practically feel his confusion when the Apparation spell failed. Severus snorted at him condescendingly.

"Ah, I knew you were going to try that," he sneered. "How predictable." Taking a decisive step forward, Severus grabbed the man's mask by its base and pulled it up over his eyes, revealing a narrow face with dark, expressive eyebrows and a full, almost feminine mouth. It was the face of a man whom Severus had thought to be dead. In fact, Severus knew him to be dead. Severus had been to his funeral.

Severus gave a short laugh as realization hit him.

"Wearing a mask beneath the mask? Whatever for? There's no way that you're Evan Rosier. "

The man frowned at Severus's words.

"It- doesn't matter. The point is, everyone thinks I look like this."

"And who are you really?"

"You think I'll tell you?"

"No," said Severus. "But that Polyjuice Potion's going to run out at any minute." He smiled again. Severus smiled the most when he had an advantage over others.

As if on cue, the man's face rippled, looking as if a parasitic worm had just ventured out for an excursion under his skin. He immediately reached for his pocket.

"Accio potion!" cried Severus. A small bottle flew from under the man's fingertips; Severus caught it.

"Essence of Rosier," he said mockingly as the man's skin continued to shift over his face. His black hair was lightening in the moonlight. "I'll bet you're ugly under there," he continued. If there was one think Severus knew about Gryffindors, it was that insults made them dangerously emotional – and likely to say too much.

"You- you-"

"Not very articulate, are we?"

Severus watched as the man's transformation continued. He wondered at the man's resolute desire not to be discovered – it wasn't as if Black didn't already have family in the Death Eaters. He probably didn't want his Gryffindor friends finding out until he'd stabbed them in the-

Severus's train of thought abruptly ended at the sight of the transformed man in front of him, now several inches shorter than Severus. His eyes widened in surprise. The man in front of him was _not_ Sirius Black, but he was one of Potter's best friends.

"Pettigrew!" he asked, incredulous. Pettigrew, the innocuous little fat boy? A Death Eater?

"Snape," Pettigrew replied.

"I never would have guessed that a… _Gryffindor_ like yourself would join us," he said mockingly. A brief look of fear flitted across Pettigrew's face; it was replaced by something unreadable before Severus could even ask himself why Pettigrew would be afraid of the word "Gryffindor."

"You- you have a problem with Gryffindors?" he asked.

"We just don't see too many of you in our little club," said Severus, now beginning to get distinctly grumpy. He'd just spent the past two weeks trailing a mysterious traitor only to find out the man was a bungling, stuttering Gryffindor without a functioning brain cell. He wasn't going to get anything else out of this idiot but his name – he figured that would be enough to satisfy Albus. Rolling his eyes, Severus turned his back on Pettigrew and threw his hands into the air.

"I can't believe I spent all this time following _you_," he muttered.

_Not Black_, he thought gloomily. _I was really looking forward to seeing him put in Az-_

Severus never finished his thought, as little Peter Pettigrew, Death Eater and supposed ally, picked up a rock from the gravel path and bashed Severus in the right temple, knocking him unconscious in one blow.

-o-o-o-

Severus awoke to find himself in the kitchen of a dismal Muggle-style apartment. Severus had been tied to a rickety kitchen chair; the rest of the chairs and a kitchen table had been pushed off to one side of the room. There was one window near the stove; on it was perched a small photograph of four teenagers dressed in Gryffindor colors: Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, James Potter, and Peter Pettigrew. Picture-Pettigrew looked off into the room, where his living counterpart sat in a chair near Severus.

_Dammit_, he thought. _Great job, Severus.__ You decide that knocking him unconscious, tying him down, and interrogating him is not a good idea, and he does it to you._

Severus spoke first, trying to ignore the pain in the side of his head. "Blood is so difficult to get out from between the tiles, Pettigrew. Why didn't you just use a curse? My back _was_ turned."

Pettigrew, looking more at ease now that his companion was securely tied up, looked at Severus and shrugged.

"Nervous," he said. "It's why I didn't do so great at Hogwarts. I get nervous, I screw up spells. Besides, Snivellus, it was pretty satisfying to feel the crack as that rock contacted your skull."

The man's stammer was gone. Far too late, Severus realized he'd gravely underestimated Peter Pettigrew.

Almost nonchalantly, Pettigrew got to his feet and began to pace in front of Severus. "So tell me, Snivellus…"

"Stop calling me that, Prick." Somehow, Severus had the idea that Pettigrew's Slytherin nickname didn't sting as much as his own.

Pettigrew ignored him. "So tell me, Snivellus, why chase me down? Is it just because you are such a paranoid asshole that not knowing one of the Death Eaters drove you crazy? Or do you actually have a good reason?"

Severus glared up at Pettigrew, but made no move to answer. Pettigrew answered for him.

"Perhaps there have been rumors that there's a _traitor_ in the Death Eaters." Severus felt his blood run cold as Pettigrew spoke those few words, realizing for the first time that perhaps he should have listened to Lucius. What if Pettigrew _was _an inquisitor? Severus had walked right up to him and placed his own head in the guillotine.

"Why don't you tell me why you're here, Snape." Pettigrew stopped in front of Severus and leaned down to look him in the eye. Severus glared back and said nothing, and Pettigrew's ears began to turn pink.

"I said, _tell me!"_ Pettigrew's shout rattled the walls, but Severus said nothing.

"That's it, Snape," he muttered, "You really don't leave me much of a choice. VERITAS!"

Pettigrew's uncontrolled spell hit Severus like the Hogwarts Express, and intense pain flared in his head as the curse tore through him. Such power was unnecessary for the Veritas curse, but it had a profound effect. Severus drooped in his chair, completely floored.

Pettigrew shook Severus by the shoulders until he lifted his head; the Gryffindor came only part-way into focus.

"Why are you here?" he asked again, his eyes intense.

Severus fought for time, trying to find a way to speak the truth without betraying himself. He couldn't mention Dumbledore… what was his excuse? He'd been hunting Pettigrew because he thought the man was a traitor.

_Of course._ Lucius and the others also thought that Pettigrew was a traitor, but a traitor to the Death Eaters, not a traitor to Dumbledore.

"To find out if you're a traitor," Severus said, leaving out the fact that he meant a traitor to someone else. Unexpectedly for an inquisitor, Pettigrew paled at his words.

"Who sent you?"

"Our master," Severus choked, fighting to retain the twisted logic he needed for the half-truth. Dumbledore had once been Headmaster to both of them, and so Severus could say that he'd been send by "the master." Voldemort had threatened Severus not to continue his investigation, but Pettigrew didn't know that – it would be just like the Dark Lord to have two spies, neither of whom knew of the other's existence.

"And what's your verdict? Do you think I'm a traitor?"

Severus blinked. _What?_

Severus ran back over Pettigrew's question. Did _he_ think _Pettigrew _was a traitor? Shouldn't Severus be asking that question about himself? Suddenly everything made sense. Severus though Pettigrew was an inquisitor sent to find Severus out – Pettigrew thought Severus was an inquisitor sent to find Pettigrew out. Pettigrew was having second thoughts, and thought that Severus was trying to expose him as a collaborator with Dumbledore.

_Ha_, thought Severus wryly. _That's my job._

"Most definitely," replied Severus – the truth again, but not as Pettigrew saw it. "It's clear on your face that you're a traitor." If he chose the right words, Severus would be able to turn the situation to his advantage

"How long have you been tracking me?"

"Thirteen days."

Pettigrew was silent for a moment, and Severus decided to take the initiative. With a little manipulation, he'd be able to get out of this.

"That picture on your windowsill is appalling," he said, hoping to put Pettigrew on the defensive. "All followers of Dumbledore."

Pettigrew sneered at him. "I _do_ have the upper hand here… I wouldn't sound so high and mighty if I were you."

"The Master would be very disappointed if I were to die. He'd find out it was you – he did send me, after all."

Pettigrew's sneer dissolved.

"Well," he said. "You might have to die anyway."

"That's completely stupid, Pettigrew. You couldn't lie to save your life." Severus couldn't help thinking, _and here I am lying under the Veritas curse to save my own, you stupid moron._

"Look," Severus continued. "We're at a standoff here. You have me tied up, and I know the truth. If you kill me, you'll end up dying. But then again, if you let me go, I'll tell the Master about you, and you'll end up dying. You could try to kill me and hide my body, but I doubt someone as sloppy as you would get away with it. So why don't we make a deal? You let me go, and I won't tell anyone about that picture over there… or your misplaced loyalties. I'll even promise not to tell under the Veritas curse… but only if you untie me first."

Pettigrew looked at him silently.

"It's the only option that doesn't involve your death, Pettigrew. You really didn't plan this very well."

Pettigrew looked thoughtful for a moment, and then spoke. "You're right, Snape. I am going to let you go. And you aren't going to tell anyone about me. And after tonight, the Dark Lord will _never_ doubt me again."

Severus frowned at Pettigrew. _Never_ was never a good word to hear when tied up.

"You see, Snape, I have had second thoughts about being a Death Eater. It's dirty work, your colleagues are all murderers, and you have to be on call twenty-four hours a day. I've thought about turning on the Dark Lord, so you were right to suspect me. But you know what? You Slytherins are right. Ambition does pay off. I was always a nobody in Gryffindor house, even when I was doing what everybody wanted me to. Even you had more influence than me, because people were afraid of you. James, Lily, Sirius, Remus… they got ahead because in Gryffindor house, in the 'real world,' everything's a popularity contest, and I'm not very popular. Why should I go crawling back to them? Even being an antisocial recluse among the Death Eaters is better than trying to fit in among _them_, and when the Death Eaters wipe out everything but their own kind on this stinking planet, I'll be there on top with them.

"A week ago, James and Lily Potter decided that, since I was such an _innocuous_ little guy, such a harmless, nice boy, that I'd make a perfect Secret Keeper for the Fidelius Charm protecting them. Who would ever suspect little Peter Pettigrew?" Pettigrew paused for a moment to smirk at Severus, who finally had all the pieces to his puzzle.

"I'm going to tell the Dark Lord where to find the Potters. They'll die, tonight, and he will never doubt me again. And you? You won't be providing any opposition."

Severus felt his face grow pale as Pettigrew raised his wand once more. Backed with his uncontrolled magic, Pettigrew's spell was quick, violent, and devastating; Severus never knew what hit him.

-o-o-o-o

**Thanks** to Silverthreads, Surlyse, snape ape, trickcy, TEC, and Athena Keating-Thomas for your detailed and very nice reviews of Chapter 2 – I really appreciate it.


	4. Ch4: Dismantled Memories

**Oblivion**

By K. Cloak

**A/N**: This chapter and most of the last chapter were written _before_ the release of HBP, but I hadn't finished them off before the book came out. Therefore they are not overtly HBP-compliant. However, they are still plausible, depending on your personal theory about Snape. I just didn't want to leave this story hanging, even if it (and especially "The Furnace") has been somewhat canon-balled. Also, these last two chapters have not been extensively worked over, as medical school is now upon me and fic-writing time is at an all-time low. If you find grievous spelling/grammar errors, send me an email. I'll fix 'em. Enough rambling. Enjoy.

**Chapter 4: Dismantled Memories**

"Get up, you damned drunk!"

Severus awoke to a lurching, damp world of black and pale yellow, the cause of his sudden awareness standing over him, one shoe on the backswing from the kick that he had just delivered.

Severus lay on his back on a concrete sidewalk, a wall to his left and a stranger to his right. With a groan, Severus raised a hand to his head, barely noticing the suited Muggle who'd kicked him into awareness. The blossoming pain in his head would have been strong enough to drown out the feeling of a good set of broken ribs, and the Muggle hadn't kicked him hard.

Struggling into a sitting position, Severus watched as the Muggle turned and began to leave, apparently having vented his share of belligerence for the night. Disoriented and having difficulty focusing on the world around him, he blinked and tried to concentrate.

He sat on a sidewalk next to a dirty brick building, the street dimly lit with Muggle electric lights. The sidewalk was mostly deserted; three young men stood smoking near a streetlight some distance away, apparently not caring about the fine, cold rain that now fell on them all. There was a bar about twenty feet away in the other direction; now that Severus was paying attention, he could hear Muggle music coming from the interior.

Putting his head in his hands, Severus tried to think. How had he gotten where he was? His robes were soaking wet in front, but dry in the back; he figured he couldn't have been outside for more than half an hour – or that it had only been raining for that long.

He didn't remember it being so cold when he'd left his house; his hands were stiff and his skin felt waxy under his cold, wet robes. Dizzy, he struggled to his feet, trying to find focus on the night's elusive memories. He'd been to a meeting… and then he'd woken up here. Frustrated at the sudden jump in recollection, Severus focused harder on his memory of the early evening. He'd been to a Death Eater meeting, which hadn't been very interesting… and then he'd woken up here. There was nothing in between – not even a sense that any time had passed between then and now.

Frowning, Severus turned his unsteady gaze to the door of the bar, putting a hand on the brick wall to stay upright. He felt vaguely nauseous, and there was a bruise and what felt like a good deal of dried blood on the side of his head. He _had_ been feeling rather depressed lately. Had he gone to that bar, gotten drunk enough to forget where he was, gotten into a fistfight with a Muggle – who'd won – and then stumbled outside to pass out in the rain?

Severus closed his eyes and leaned back against the wet bricks. No, he couldn't have. The Muggle who had kicked him had been British. He would never have gone to a bar in England, where he might run into someone he knew. Anyway, he would have won in the fistfight.

_Gods damn it all_, he thought. The answer was obvious: He'd been Obliviated. And since the last thing he remembered was the meeting, he'd most likely been Obliviated by a fellow Death Eater.

Somehow, Severus had a feeling Albus would know about this; the old man always knew what was going on, even when it was none of his business. He reached a hand down into his robes, finding his wand where he always kept it, but a warning buzz tingled through his fingertips as his skin brushed the wand's polished handle. Confused, Severus held his right hand in front of his face, almost expecting the skin to be slightly singed.

He knew that sensation; it was the vaguely precognitive warning that most witches and wizards received before attempting a spell beyond their capabilities. It was the feeling that every wizarding teenager experienced when trying to Apparate for the first time - a felling that said "don't even think about it, kid." Severus realized that his concentration was shattered; replacing his wand in its loop, he began to walk down the sidewalk. Hopefully, a stroll through the cold rain would wake him up enough to Apparate; it was either that or take the Knight Bus.

Severus shuddered at the thought.

He'd only been walking for a minute when he was interrupted by another rude voice. "Hey faggot, nice dress." For the second time in five minutes, Severus found himself being called inaccurate names by an arrogant Muggle. The three smoking men, whom he had been passing by, stepped in front of Severus, halting his progress.

Severus narrowed his eyes at them, not in the mood to have a conversation, hostile or otherwise.

"Apparently you need to have your eyes examined, as I am clearly not wearing a dress," he said, turning to leave in the direction from which he had come. The shortest of them, solidly built with short blonde hair, grabbed him by the arm, spinning him back around to face the group.

"Get your hand off of me," he said to the blonde man, shaking the hand off of his shoulder.

"Why, faggot? I thought you'd liked to be touched by men." This comment came from another of the trio, a black-haired, thin man who looked a lot like Severus himself. Severus sneered at him, wrapping his finders around the wand handle under his robes and ignoring the warning buzz that returned with the contact.

"Hey!" yelled the blonde, grabbing Severus by the collar. "Don't go getting any ideas." He released Severus with a shove; unbalanced, Severus fell backwards and landed on the wet sidewalk, skinning his hands as he reflexively put his arms back to break the fall. The new pain in his hands and his frustration at finding himself picked on by a trio of arrogant Muggles evoked a sudden fury in Severus, and for the first time in a long while he felt his old hatred for Muggles rising back up in him. Clenching his hands into fists, Severus returned to his feet.

Sneering at the three men, he took an aggressive step forward, driving the man closest to him a step back. He then proceeded to do something that Severus Snape rarely did: he turned and ran.

The three Muggles took only a moment to stand there looking surprised before giving chase to the young wizard. Severus, who soon realized he wasn't in much of a condition to run, began to slow down. He briefly wondered how much of the Muggles' violence was just bluster and bravado – he'd find out soon enough. After a hundred feet more, Severus was forced to stop. The Muggles had not gone away. One of them now snapped open a switchblade as he began to stalk towards Severus.

Severus took his wand out of his robes as the man with the knife approached him. Once again, his hand tingled in warning, but Severus had little time to consider his options; as the man with the switchblade closed the distance between himself and Severus, Severus disapparated, leaving the three drunken men to stare at the empty space where he'd just been.

- - - - -

Severus awoke in a tangle of low brambles in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. For a moment, he couldn't remember how he had gotten there; then, the memory of his encounter with the Muggles, and his lack of memory of the rest of the night, came back to him. Apparently, the warning buzz he'd felt had meant something; Apparating had knocked him unconscious and had done nothing for his headache.

Severus struggled to get to his feet without tearing himself to shreds on the brambles, which were oddly leafless. He cursed as his black robes caught on the thorns; he freed the fabric from one bramble, cutting his hands in the process, only to have them snag on another place. Eventually, after Severus had been sufficiently lacerated to grasp the futility of his struggle, he emptied the pockets of his outer robes and took them off, draping them over a section of the brambles and stepping over them to get out.

_What a horrible place to Apparate into_, thought Severus. He wouldn't allow himself to acknowledge the fact that, most likely, he'd only narrowly avoided splinching himself. Tramping away from the brambles and the robes they had claimed, he took a moment to orient himself and began to make his way toward Hogwarts.

- - - - -

By the time Severus had picked his way through the dark forest and reached the border of the Hogwarts grounds, he'd recovered enough to run, albeit slowly, across the grounds to the castle. By the time he made it to the doors, the Strangling Hex was already making his breathing difficult. He tried the doors that led to the great hall, only to find them locked.

_Crap_, he thought, looking back over the distance he'd covered. He'd never made it back to the Forbidden Forest. He knocked on the door impatiently; although he doubted that the Strangling Hex was lethal, he didn't particularly want to find out.

"What do you want this time?" asked the sour voice of Argus Filch, as the grouchy caretaker opened the door a crack and wedged his skinny body into it.

"Let me in," said Severus. "I need to talk to Dumbledore."

Filch took in Severus's bruised and bloody face, missing robes, and altogether disheveled appearance. For a moment, the only sound was Severus's ragged breathing.

"You don't learn, do you?" asked Filch, giving Severus the kind of look he usually reserved for misbehaving second-years.

"What?" asked Severus.

"Oh, never mind," muttered Filch, opening the doors and letting Severus in. Severus took little notice of him as he made his way quickly through the halls and up to the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office.

"Chocolate frog," he croaked. The gargoyle continued to look at him with its stony, blank eyes.

"I said, chocolate frog!"

The gargoyle didn't respond. Severus cursed loudly at the gargoyle. When had Albus changed the password?

It took about ten more tries at the password before the hex caught up with Severus.

Luckily for him, it wasn't lethal.

- - - - -

"Snape?"

Severus opened his eyes to find himself in a chair in Albus's office; he was being held there by Argus Filch. Severus couldn't be sure what had woken him up: Filch's voice, or his breath.

Severus shook off Filch's hands, looking over the caretaker's shoulder at Dumbledore, who stood behind him.

"You changed the password," Severus said stupidly. His head was clearing, but not at record speed.

Albus ignored Severus's comment. "Mr. Filch tripped over you, Severus." Turning to Filch, he continued. "Thank you, Argus. That will be all."

Filch nodded at Dumbledore, turned, and left. Severus and Albus waited until he'd descended the stairs before turning their attention to each other.

"Albus," Severus said, putting a hand his bruised, bloody temple, "I think I got involved in something… unpleasant… tonight."

"You think?" replied Albus. As usual, he pulled up a chair and took a seat facing Severus. Severus didn't know it, but Albus had rarely seen him looking so unsure of himself.

"I… don't really remember… I think I've been Memory Charmed. There was a Death Eater meeting tonight – hours ago – it's the last thing I remember before waking up in some Muggle city about… well, I don't remember how long it's been since I woke up, I've been knocked out twice."

"Twice? What happened the first time?"

Severus frowned. "I Apparated back here – I was being accosted by a group of idiot Muggles. I just… woke up afterwards." Severus took a breath and let it out. "It was bizarre, Albus. Why would that happen? I haven't touched my wand since."

Albus was now frowning back at Severus, deep and normally unseen wrinkles forming between his eyebrows.

"I don't know, Severus – I'm no mediwizard." Stepping forward, he gently but firmly peeled Severus's now bloody hand from the side of his hand, surveying the damage. It looked like he'd been hit in the head with a hard object – his fall in the hallway had started it bleeding again. "Do you think you discovered the identity of the traitor?" asked Albus, almost offhandedly.

"Traitor?" asked Severus.

The sudden look on Albus's face sent a stab of fear through Severus's consciousness. Albus continued more slowly, as if his manner of speaking would improve Severus's understanding of the words.

"The one that you've been tracking, Severus. For two weeks."

Severus merely looked back at Albus, the confusion in his eyes slowly changing to a vague kind of horror. The look was mirrored in Albus's eyes.

"You must have," said Albus, his voice a near-whisper.

Severus frowned back at Albus, a very unpleasant thought taking root in his head.

"You must have found him out." Albus was shaking his head.

The unpleasant thought in Severus's head started to make itself heard.

"Damn." The single word, so uncharacteristic of Albus, set the unpleasant thought banging on the inside of Severus's skull.

"I haven't lost one night, have I."

The look on Albus's face answered that question for him. "What's the last thing you remember, Severus?"

Severus closed his eyes, a blanket of dread settling over him. "The meeting, around eight o'clock. On… September fifth," he said, gritting his teeth. There was a long pause before Albus spoke.

"Today's Halloween," he replied softly. "It's almost midnight."

Severus closed his eyes tighter, raking his hands into his hair and balling them into fists over his forehead. "Bastard," he spat, his teeth still clenched together. Abruptly, he opened his eyes and stood, the chair rocking precariously behind him. "Who the _fuck_ would chop two months out of my memory for _nothing_!"

Severus began to pace, muttering as he went. Albus watched him with trepidation.

"Halloween! _Halloween! _I don't remember a goddamn thing!" Severus strode through the office with impressive speed, yet slightly unsteadily.

"I don't remember a goddamn thing," he repeated furiously, angrily swiping a tea towel from a low table and holding it up to his head, which was freely bleeding now. "Who the hell was I tracking, Albus?"

"A Death Eater with close ties to, and plans to kill, the…" Albus hesitated. "The Potter family." He flinched as Severus exploded.

"The _Potter _family! I get my brains scrambled and my head nearly bashed in for the _Potter_ family? This is _ridiculous!_" Severus continued to march around the room, filling the air with an assortment of muttered swear words.

"You… were going to find out which friend of the Potters had become the newest Death Eater," said Albus, his voice quiet.

"Albus, you idiot!" yelled Severus. He spun around quickly and wavered on his feet for a moment before sitting back down, rather violently, in his abandoned chair. "I just saw the newest Death Eater a few days ago – I mean… at the very beginning of September. He's taller than I am, and well-built, and he stands apart from the others as if he's better than everyone. Who do you _think_ it is!"

"We've had this argument already, Severus."

"It's Sirius Black!"

"You don't know that."

"Who else would dislike me _so much_ that he'd excise sixty times more information than necessary from my memory?" There was a moment of tense silence, like the silence just before a bomb goes off.

A few seconds of sudden silence ticked by.

Albus pursed his lips. "Everyone in Gryffindor house?"

For a moment, Severus stood, frozen in fury; then, ever so slightly, he relaxed in his chair.

"I suppose you're right," he said, sighing. "It could be anyone. I do know a handful of Death Eaters who wear more extensive disguises to meetings." He

looked back at Albus. "There has to be a way to find out anyway. You can undo a Memory Charm, can't you?"

"Somehow, I doubt that this was a weak Memory Charm, Severus."

"Well, what about Legilimency – I won't block you out."

"I'm not sure, Severus. You've become even better at Occlumency these last two months, and…" he looked at Severus's bleeding temple, "memories obtained under duress are often easier to hide."

"Well, maybe they're harder to remove as well. It's worth a try, Albus. Besides, I want to find out who did this." _And break a few of his ribs_, he thought.

Albus shrugged, removing his wand from his robes. "All right," he said. "At least you're tired. _Legilimens__!"_

The moment Albus cast the spell, Severus cried out in sudden, unexpected pain. "Stop!" he shouted, his voice rising an octave above its normal range. Albus immediately backed down and looked at Severus in surprise: he had slumped forward and held both hands to his head.

Severus raised his head and looked at Albus with a mixture of pain, surprise, and disorientation. "What the hell was that?"

Albus once again looked grave. "You know… I think you've been injured worse than you thought, Severus," he said. "You should go to the hospital wing."

Severus shook his head. "No," he said. "Pain's gone now – I'll go later. Try again – I'll be sure not to Occlude you."

Although he looked as though he did not want to, Albus once again cast the spell and tried to work his way into Severus's Obliviated memory. What he, as well as Severus, saw was devastating in its starkness: nothing. A sea of white. From the night of September 5th to late at night on Halloween, there was a void.

Albus broke off the spell, and Severus opened his eyes. He didn't remember closing them.

"I'm sorry," said Albus. "It was a strong spell."

Severus glared, not necessarily at Albus, but at the world in general.

"Try one more time – focus on tonight."

"Severus…"

"Just try it!"

Albus took a breath and tried a third time, focusing all of his magic on penetrating the fog surrounding the night of Halloween. For several moments, the stark nothingness in Severus's mind glared back at Albus Dumbledore.

And then, from the depths of Severus's shattered memory, rose the damning words: "I'd make a perfect Secret Keeper for the Fidelius Charm protecting them." An unidentifiable voice, gloating, echoed from Severus's mind. "I'm going to tell the Dark Lord where to find the Potters," it said. "They'll die, tonight."

Albus and Severus emerged from the spell as one. Albus had turned paler than Severus had ever seen him. After a long moment of shocked silence, he spoke.

"I'm so sorry, Severus," he said. His voice shook, only slightly, but enough to scare Severus.

"Who is it? Who is the Secret Keeper? You know, don't you."

Albus turned to Severus and spoke in a whisper, as if his next words would break him in two if he spoke them too loudly. "I'm sorry, Severus, for my blindness. You were right. Their Secret Keeper… is Sirius Black."

-o-o-o

A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed the 3rd chapter: Katharina-B, Persephone Lupin, and Grey Grim. I appreciate it!


	5. Ch5: False Judgments

**Oblivion**

By K. Cloak

**Chapter 5: False judgments **

Albus Dumbledore was a wizard approaching one hundred fifty years old. He'd seen the rise of three evil overlords, and the demise of two of them. He'd done a lot in the many decades that he'd been alive, and with those decades had developed his particular personality: kindly, gentle, hard as nails inside, but always willing to stop and smell the roses – to take his time with things.

Currently, Albus Dumbledore was pulling a disoriented Severus Snape through the hallways of Hogwarts with the speed of a madman; Severus, with one hand pinned in Albus's and the other holding a bloody tea towel to his face, had never seen him move in such a way.

"Where are we going?" Severus managed to ask. Only minutes before, he'd been sitting in Albus's office, having his mind picked through for clues as to who had wiped out a substantial chunk of his memory, had damaged his spellcasting ability, and planned, in the very near future, to murder a pair of Aurors by the name of Potter, as well as their son.

As Severus and Albus now knew, that man was Sirius Black. Albus had been stricken at the news, but had taken on a no-nonsense, get-the-job-done attitude so quickly that Severus couldn't be sure what he was really thinking – as if anyone ever knew what he was thinking in the first place.

"I'm going to drop you off in the hospital wing to be examined, and then I am going to break that Fidelius Charm and bring the Potters here," said Albus. He was not the least bit out of breath; Severus, on the other hand, was having trouble with the pace.

"You cast it?" Severus gasped.

"Of course I cast it – who else would they trust to cast it?"

Severus would have shrugged, had he not feared having his shoulder dislocated. The two men arrived at the doors to the hospital wing and came to an abrupt stop. Albus marched Severus into the wing, sat him on a bed, yelled "Poppy!" and was gone in a whirlwind of white hair and beard.

Severus felt dazed, and that was just from the last five minutes.

"Yes, Albus?" came an unfamiliar voice. Severus turned to see a mediwitch enter the wing: she wasn't the one Severus had known when he attended Hogwarts. She stopped in front of Severus, surprise on her face.

"Why, you're not Albus," she remarked. The witch was about a decade older than Severus and rather pretty in a matronly sort of way. She looked like she'd just woken up – she probably had.

"Did it take you long to determine that?" asked Severus, his typical deadpan voice returning.

Poppy laughed. "_You_ must be Severus. Albus has told me about you."

"Really."

"Oh yes. He described you as a 'tall, black-haired man with a prominent nose and a penchant for sarcasm.' You fit that description quite well. I'm Poppy Pomfrey – I guess you can call me Poppy, as Albus has insisted that I call you Severus. Let me take a look at that cut on your head." Without waiting for Severus to reply, she yanked the tea towel from Severus's hand, raked the hair back from the right side of his face and began to examine the large bruise on his head. "My, quite a bash on the head you took, Severus. Anything else wrong with you?"

Severus didn't know what to think of the mediwitch's bubbly, yet bossy manner, and so he simply looked back at her with uncharacteristic blankness.

"You look awful," she said. "Hold still," she said, blotting at the cut on Severus's head.

"Ow!" he yelped.

"Sorry! Don't want to have dirt in that cut, do you? So how'd you get this?"

"I don't remember," replied Severus flatly.

"Don't remember? Well, it looks like someone threw a rock at you."

"Probably. I wouldn't know, I've just had two months of memory Obliviated."

Poppy looked at him with sympathy. "Sorry to hear that." She muttered a healing charm and briefly summoned a diagnostic aura around Severus as she taped a bandage to the side of Severus's face.

"Flesh wound should be all gone tomorrow morning. The bruise will fade in a day or so. Don't take off the bandage for a while – you don't want that getting infected!"

Severus had never heard anyone say the word "infected" in such a chipper tone.

Severus frowned at her while she set to work on the scratches and scrapes on his hands. "Thank you," he muttered when she had finished. "I think I'll be going now." He began to raise himself off of the bed only to have Poppy grasp him by the shoulders and shove him back down. The woman had a will of steel, and it seemed she had arms to match.

"Oh, no you don't. I can tell just by being near you that you have spell damage. I didn't spend the last ten years working at Saint Mungo's for nothing. You're not going anywhere. Lie down." Severus looked back at her defiantly, but lay down on the bed. At least there were no other students in the hospital wing that night – a wonder, considering how many of them had probably overeaten at dinner. Severus was still having trouble believing that it was Halloween, and he voiced the thought.

"Well, Severus, it won't be Halloween for much longer." As Poppy spoke, Severus heard a clock strike; he listened as it tolled twelve times. "See? Now it's the first of November – a fresh start!"

"A fresh start," Severus muttered. On his left forearm, a subtle change was occurring in the Dark Mark, but he failed to notice it at all. Having finally lain down in a comfortable place, he was beginning to really feel his exhaustion.

"So, um… _Poppy_… what's wrong with my magic? I feel like a first-year trying to take on a mountain troll."

Poppy sighed. "I don't really know. From what I can tell, the memory charm used on you was powerful enough to actually cause minor brain damage. Sort of like using a sledgehammer to crush a bug on the wall – you put a hole in the wall as well. It seems like it's also affecting your magic."

"That bastard," spat Severus. Poppy's diagnosis, while delivered in a friendly and sympathetic manner, still scared the hell out of Severus. Severus hated to show weakness, and now Black had weakened him in the area where it mattered most, and possibly forever. Another man would have cried or raged at the thought; Severus merely seethed.

"Relax, Severus," said Poppy. "Tomorrow, check in to St. Mungo's. They'll do a full scan on you – I'm sure they can reverse the damage."

Severus snorted. "People who say 'I'm sure' are never sure."

"Fair enough," she replied. "There is a _good chance_ they can reverse the damage – although I doubt you'll ever recover your missing memories."

"Not surprising," Severus sighed, sitting back up. A look of alarm crossed his face as Poppy stepped toward him and began an attempt to undo the buttons on his shirt.

"What are you doing!" he yelped, brushing Poppy off. Her hands returned just as quickly, like flies that simply land on your toast after you've shooed them off of your drinking glass.

"Take your shoes off," she said matter-of-factly. "And this shirt too – it's constrictive. You _do_ have another shirt underneath, don't you?"

"Yes, but-"

"All right, then off with that shirt. It's bloodstained and wet, and it's not cold in here." If Poppy's words were choppy, it was only because she was wrestling his buttons apart as Severus tried to fend her off.

"I do believe that choice is mine!"

Poppy stopped wrestling with Severus and let out a sigh. "Oh, for the gods' sake, Severus! I already _know_." With a grim little smile, she tapped her own left forearm. "Or at least, I know enough. _Subucula intectum!_"

Severus gaped, scowled, and swiftly crossed his now-bare arms as his outer shirt disappeared from his body and reappeared on a chair next to the bed.

"There!" said Poppy triumphantly. She smiled at him as she moved toward the foot of the bed and patted his obviously filthy boots.

"You – infuriating woman!" cried Severus.

"Oh, relax," she replied. "Now take your shoes off and make yourself comfortable."

Grudgingly, Severus obeyed.

- - - - -

The clock had struck a quarter to two when Albus returned. Despite his exhaustion, Severus's fury at Black and discomfort at his surroundings had kept him awake, staring at the ceiling. He'd imagined a hundred times what Black might have said to him before he cast that spell, each hypothetical conversation leaving him angrier and more drained.

Albus's face and posture were saturated with grief as he entered and dimly lit the hospital wing. In his arms, Albus carried a baby. Even from twenty feet away, Severus could see the fresh, angry scar on his forehead, his shock of black hair, and his clear green eyes. Albus set the boy down; he began to toddle around the hospital wing. Albus himself approached Severus, who'd gotten to his feet.

"What happened?" asked Severus. "Did you undo the Fidelius charm?"

Grief flooded onto Albus's face at the question. "I was too late – it had already been undone. James and Lily… they're dead."

A flurry of mixed emotions rose up in Severus's head at Albus's words.

Although Severus couldn't really care less about James Potter's death, he couldn't help feeling sad that the Lily Evans… no, Lily _Potter_, had died as well. She had, at one time, been almost civil to Severus.

And Severus had failed to protect her.

"The child – is he theirs?"

A weak smile momentarily pushed the grief from Albus Dumbledore's countenance. "Yes. I don't know why yet, but he was spared his parents' fate."

"It seems highly unlikely that the Dark Lord would begin showing mercy to children now, Albus," said Severus, who was beginning to look very skeptical. "He wouldn't have just _left_!"

The grief and worry returned to Albus's face. "I know. It's odd, Severus. Voldemort was nowhere to be found. We don't know where he's gone, but it appears that he… ran away."

"Ran away?" _I highly doubt it_, Severus thought. If he could raise his eyebrows any higher, they would have flown off of his face.

Sighing, Albus sat down on the bed nearest Severus. "I'm going to go back out and try to find out what's happened. I only came to bring little Harry here… so he could be safe." Standing again, Albus went to retrieve the curious toddler from the back of the room and placed him on the bed next to Severus, conjuring up a set of rails around the bed to keep the boy from falling out.

"Are you sure going out to look for a madman in the middle of the night is prudent, Albus?"

Albus gave a short laugh. "No," he said shortly. "But it has to be done. Keep an eye on him." Without waiting for a reply, Albus left, leaving Severus with the Potter baby.

Sitting on his own bed, Severus stared over at the small child, who had stood up in his makeshift crib and was staring back at Severus just as intently.

"Da da da da… moo bip," he said cheerfully.

"Moo bip to you too, you little monster," replied Severus. Unsure whether he should be happy, sad or still furious, he settled for tired.

Harry giggled at Severus's response to him. "Moooo bip," he said again, a string of drool forming on his bottom lip.

"Yeah, moo bip."

Little Harry laughed again, and Severus couldn't help smiling, just a little. He'd never seen much of babies in his nearly twenty-one years, and while he found this one a little too drooly for his liking, he _was_ the tiniest bit… cute. For a Potter.

What Harry thought of Severus remained unclear. As Severus watched, the boy began to try to climb out of his bed. After a minute or two of struggling, which Severus watched without interfering, Harry managed to wriggle almost to the top of the rails.

"Oh, no you don't, Potter," said Severus. Carefully, he picked the child up to deposit him back in his bed. On impulse, he set the kid down on his own bed instead.

"I almost feel bad for you, Potter," he said. "I still miss my own mother sometimes, and it's been ten years. At least you won't remember her – it's better this way. You only grieve for what you remember."

Little Harry laughed again at his newfound freedom, taking no notice of Severus's words. _Maybe,_ thought Severus, _not all of the Potters are as bad as this one's dad._ Severus allowed himself another small smile as baby Harry took an interest in Severus's hands. After trying and failing to _chew on_ Severus's hands - Severus wouldn't go that far – Harry spent a few minutes fiddling with Severus's long fingers and his shiny wedding band. After getting bored with the hands, the baby moved up to the wrists and then to the forearms, before his gaze lit on the Dark Mark, which Severus had forgotten to conceal.

The smile not leaving his face, baby Potter uttered his first actual word of the day.

"Bad!" he said. "Ba ba ba ba. Bad."

The word had probably been driven into Harry's young mind by his Auror parents, who knew that Harry should learn to fear the Dark Mark at as young an age as possible. Harry himself didn't even know what "bad" meant, but his damage was already done.

Severus stared at Harry for a moment, the bottom falling out of his rare, pleasant emotional state in a split second. He couldn't believe it – even the very youngest Potter was judging him. Harry found himself plunked back into the railed bed in seconds, after which Severus began to gather his things.

_That's it_, thought Severus. Forget Albus, forget the Potter child, forget Poppy. He wouldn't spend another unnecessary second in Hogwarts.

- - - - -

Severus took the Knight Bus home, which dropped him off, jostled and exhausted, at four in the morning. Entering through the front door, he walked through his darkened living room, only to trip on something in the middle of the floor.

In the dim light provided by the outside streetlamps, Severus made out the body of his wife. There was a halo of blood around her head; she was very clearly dead.

Severus, too tired to care, collapsed on the couch and fell asleep.

The world would be very different when he woke up.

- - - - -


	6. Epilogue

**Oblivion**

By K. Cloak

**Epilogue**

"We're here, mate!"

Professor Severus Snape drifted awake, prying his face off of the cab's cold backseat window. He glanced up at the Muggle cabbie, who was peering back at him through the rearview mirror.

"We're here," he repeated. "This is the cemetery you wanted, right?"

"Um… yes," replied Severus, self-consciously straightening his black Muggle-style coat. Stepping outside into the snow, he walked up to the driver's side door.

"Just wait here – I won't be long," he said to the cabbie, who'd rolled his window down to hear Severus.

"It's your money," the man replied. He cranked the window back up immediately; it was unusually cold for December.

Hands in his pockets, Severus crunched down the path from the cab and made his way into the cemetery, which was quite empty. _It's no wonder no one's here,_ he thought. _These stupid Muggle clothes are barely warmer than nothing at all. _

Stupid Muggle clothes.

He wouldn't have to be wearing Muggle clothes if he hadn't needed the cab ride. He wouldn't have needed the cab ride if he'd been able to Apparate. He wouldn't have been unable to Apparate if Sirius Black hadn't dealt him a grievous and slow-healing mental wound over a month ago. And he wouldn't even have to be in this stupid cemetery if Black had stopped at murdering two of his best friends instead of killing a third.

It was at the grave of that third friend that Severus stopped.

_Poor bastard,_ thought Severus. There wasn't even a body in his grave – he'd been blown to bits much in the same manner as Severus's spellcasting ability, and by the same dreadfully out-of-control magic. By the same dreadfully out-of-control wizard.

"Hello," he said softly, his breath condensing into pale icy wisps in the cold air.

The empty grave gave him no reply.

"Don't think that because I've come here I've forgotten all the crap you put me through in school," Severus continued.

Once again, he was answered by silence.

Sighing, Severus knelt down next to the snow-covered headstone. "Look," he went on. "Perhaps you picked the wrong friends, just like I did. If any one of you four was the least of an asshole, it was you. I'm… I'm sorry he had to kill you too, after you confronted him. He's been sent to Azkaban, you know."

Severus sighed again.

"I just thought you should know. You at least tried to stop him – even if it did kill you. I suppose Black can take your share of my hatred… and maybe I'll forgive you. After all, you're dead – you can't tell anyone."

Rising, Severus turned to leave. After taking a few steps, however, he hesitated, then returned to the grave, standing over the spot where the empty casket lay buried.

Gritting his teeth against the pain it still caused him, Severus extended his right arm and spun in a circle, the tip of his wand defining his spell's border. Within that border, the snow and ice vanished, leaving a springtime circle of green grass around Severus's feet.

As Severus placed his wand back in his coat pocket, the words on the grave emerged from their sudden thaw:

_Peter Pettigrew_

_1960-1981_

_A brave and loyal friend_

Severus did not read them as he walked away.


End file.
